


Day 1: Frottage & Teasing

by ImagineBeatles



Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [2]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Frottage, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Magical Mystery Smut Month, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: Modern AU. After having been separated from each other for over 6 months, John, living in New York, finally finds his way back to his boyfriend in England.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811731
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	Day 1: Frottage & Teasing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChutJeDors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChutJeDors/gifts).



> This is day 1 of my Magical Mystery Smut Month! For those who don't know, I will be writing one smut fic a day for 31 days for the whole of July. For more information and the smut list, please check out my Tumblr ([x](https://imaginebeatles.tumblr.com/post/619654337253294080/announcement-smut-writing-challenge) and [x](https://imaginebeatles.tumblr.com/post/621294554443907072/the-magical-mystery-smut-challenge)) or have a look at the first part of this series. 
> 
> I'm going to try my best to keep this up and stay on schedule. Let's see how this goes, and please let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated!

Today was the day. After spending six whole months apart, Paul finally found himself driving in his crappy second-hand car towards the airport to pick up his boyfriend. It was still early, and mist lay over the fields on either side of the motorway. There were barely any cars around, except for some vans, lorries and sleek black cars, all on their way to work. The radio was on and a man’s voice was giving traffic information. 

Paul barely noticed any of that as he drove, trying his best to focus, but struggling to keep his mind from drifting. Towards the moment he would be on his way back, only a few hours from now, but with John finally next to him again, his hand on Paul’s thigh as he drove... Towards all the days they had planned and all the nights they would spend together in one bed again. 

Six months. It wasn’t the longest they had been apart, but each week had felt like a century had gone by. Paul had known when he and John had decided to keep their brief summer fling going that it was not going to be easy, with him living in England, while John spent his days in New York. 

He thought he had been prepared for that; for the long lonely nights, for the endless phone calls in the middle of the night after John got back from his lectures, for the exhaustion that followed it, for the longing that burned deep within him to the point of pain each time he had to put the phone down or woke up to find he had once again fallen asleep on John, only to find John hadn’t ended the call, but had kept it on as he had gone to sleep as well. And for a while it had been doable, but each time they saw each other and had to say goodbye, the wait for their next meeting felt even longer than the last. 

Reaching the airport, Paul searched for a place to park in the overcrowded parking lot, and took a moment to collect himself before he got out and began making his way towards the arrivals hall. It was a bit of a walk, and Paul’s legs felt like jelly as he moved. When he had finally made it, he let himself rest against the wall, his eyes fixed on the doors through which John would eventually step. Paul could see from the information board that the plane hadn’t landed yet, and he wished he could speed up time. 

Paul wasn’t sure how long he waited. Despite repeatedly looking at his watch, he did not actually take note of the time. Every time the doors opened and people came out, his heart leaped and he found himself looking for John, even though rationally he knew it couldn’t yet be his flight. That is, until— 

“John! John,  _ here!” _

The words left his lips before he had even fully registered that the auburn mop of hair he saw shuffling between the heads of many others did indeed belong to John. John. His boyfriend.  _ John.  _

He saw John’s glasses next; large, thick-rimmed ones, like hipsters used to wear, but which John constantly insisted were based on those Buddy Holly had and had nothing to do with hipsters, and which Paul had never seen looking as good as they did on John’s aquiline nose. The man was wearing a sweater, purple and soft-looking, and a leather jacket that had been laid over Paul’s shoulders on multiple occasions. A large black suitcase followed him, and John’s name died on Paul’s lip as the man looked up and their eyes met. 

God, Paul had missed those eyes. Almond shaped, shining like pure amber, soft and gentle despite the hard and tough look John always tried to pull off. Paul had looked into them through a screen for the past six months, but seeing them now again, Paul realised once again that nothing could compare to seeing them for real. 

A grin spread over John’s lips as he caught sight of Paul, and Paul smiled back, repressing a giggle that would have been embarrassing. He pushed away from the wall to hurry over to him as John pushed his way through the crowd of people. 

If Paul’s legs had felt like jelly before, now he could barely feel them at all. He could barely believe John was  _ actually  _ here, after Paul had waited for so long, after they’d been counting down the days for months, and Paul knew he would not believe this to be real until he had felt John with his own hands. 

Once he was close enough, John dropped the suitcase and reached out, his arms immediately wrapping around Paul’s neck and pulling him into a hug, laughter echoing in Paul’s ear as he held him close, his fingers digging into Paul’s skin even through his clothes. John’s touch was firm and familiar, soft and comforting, and Paul’s heart slowed at the touch he had been waiting for for so long. He hugged his lover back and sighed, burying his face in John’s neck to inhale the scent he had missed so much: ciggies, cheap laundry detergent, mixed with pine and oranges; an odd combination Paul could not get enough of. 

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, holding John even closer, as if fearing he would vanish if he let go. John kissed his ear. 

“I’ve missed you too, Macca.” 

~~~

In the car, they could barely stop touching each other. They had bought coffees for on the road, both of them needing it now the exhaustion left by John’s early flight descended on them both as their excitement and anxiety slowly faded in each other’s presence and something more peaceful took over. 

Paul could barely stop looking at John as he drove, struggling to keep his focus as his eyes were constantly drawn to the man sitting next to him, who was drinking his caffè misto with almond milk and cinnamon powder from his Starbucks cup while humming along to Paul’s music collection, looking even more handsome than Paul remembered in his slim black jeans. John had his hand on Paul’s thigh, holding on as if he too was afraid Paul would somehow vanish, and this all wasn’t actually real.

They talked and joked and laughed, and Paul felt a fuzzy happiness spread through him whenever he turned to look at John and their eyes met, seeing the warm goofy grin on his lover’s face that he loved so much. 

Once back on the motorway, Paul laid his hand on top of John’s, holding it whenever he didn’t need to shift gears, and mindlessly played with John’s fingers, as if to rediscover old territory with newfound care and reverence. He had missed those hands. Gorgeous, strong and large, unlike his own, which were smaller and slightly more delicate. They had ink stains on them, encapsulating everything Paul loved about the older man. Rough, yet artistic, with the artistic side hinting towards John’s soft and romantic side that almost only came out when they were together and alone — when they were safe. 

When they finally reached Paul’s home, a student flat a little away from the city centre of Liverpool, Paul and John both hesitated to let the other go. Paul had to let go first, needing both hands to park the car, and when he turned the engine off, John too reluctantly let go, giving Paul’s leg one last squeeze.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said before he got out, and Paul shook his head.

“Not for a while.” 

With a wink, John released him and Paul stayed behind in the car for a moment longer, staring down at where John’s hand had been holding him for the whole duration of the car ride. He could still feel the press, but it was fading, and he wanted it back. 

Following John out, he helped him close the boot, before guiding him towards his new flat that John had only seen pictures of so far, even though Paul had been living there for over eight months. It felt good to finally have John there, to have him be a part of this aspect of his life, and before he opened the door with his fob, he wrapped an arm around his lover’s waist and kissed him. 

“Been hoping you’d do that for the whole ride over here,” John said as their lips broke apart, and as if to make up for lost time, leaned in to kiss Paul himself, pressing his lips instantly against his while his free hand found its way to Paul’s neck to hold on him in place. Paul moaned at the touch, his lips tingling pleasantly at the touch, and felt heat flow through his body, from his lips to his hips chest to his fingertips. When John tried to pull away, he refused, following John’s mouth and deepening it instead. 

“Inside,” John murmured when the kiss finally broke, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at Paul with an all-too familiar look in his eyes. Paul nodded, swallowing thickly, and fumbled with the fob to open the door as John grabbed his suitcase again, his free hand resting low on Paul’s back. Opening the door, the boys quickly made their way inside, their hands grabbing at each other freely as they made their way towards the staircase. 

“That’s where the mailboxes are, some storage space over there, and next to it the laundry room. If you go through that door there is a communal lounge with study spaces and a pingpong table. Toilets down the hall—” 

Paul could see John barely listened to his quick tour of the place, only staring at him and merely humming along to whatever his boyfriend was saying. Paul smiled at the attention, giddiness spreading through him as John’s hands kept grabbing at him, coaxing Paul’s hands to do the same. They pulled at the lapels of John’s leather jacket, fumbled with John’s sweater and stroked John’s hips. Their lips found each other repeatedly as they began to climb the stairs. Paul went first, climbing them backwards as he held onto the railing to keep his balance, his other hand tangled in John’s sweater, as the older man followed him, dragging his heavy suitcase along. 

“Why don’t you have a lift, for crying out loud,” John huffed in complaint and Paul laughed again, shaking his head as his lips once more found John’s. 

“It’s only the second floor. Don’t complain,” Paul muttered against them, nearly tripping as he took a wrong step backwards, but managed to catch himself. John huffed in frustration. 

“You’re alone, right?” 

“George is out. Or he should be.” 

“Good,” John said and leaned in to kiss Paul again, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him closer. He let his tongue slide over Paul’s lips, begging entrance, which Paul granted with a needy groan. 

By the time they made it to the door of Paul’s flat, the top buttons of Paul’s shirt had been undone and the material had been untucked from his jeans by John’s eagerly grasping fingers. He had Paul pressed against the door, licking into his mouth with hunger that had built up over six months. His crotch was pressing against Paul’s thigh, and his hands had vanished underneath Paul’s shirt. Paul’s own hands were on John’s hips, pulling him impossibly closer, needing more of the man now that he finally had him. 

“John…” he moaned, trying to pull away from the kiss, but was stopped as John tangled a hand in his hair, holding him firmly in place. “John… the door…” 

He almost helplessly raised his hand, offering John the little round fob, which John took and slapped against the digital lock. With a mechanical buzz, the door unlocked and Paul stumbled backwards as John pushed it open, nearly causing them both to fall. 

“Got you,” John said with a chuckle as Paul let out a soft shriek of surprise, his hands on Paul’s back to hold him up. 

“You’re a bastard. You could have killed me!” Paul said, trying to sound accusatory, but failing as he could only laugh. John smirked back. 

“Don’t be dramatic, Princess. I wouldn’t let that happen to you,” he said, and Paul scoffed, but still could not help the lovesick smile on his face. 

“Don’t call me that,” he said, but John just shrugged and helped Paul back up into a standing position, lowering his hands to Paul’s backside and giving it a squeeze.

“I’ll call you whatever I like. Princess.” And before Paul could complain, John had leaned in again, shutting the door with his foot. He began to maneuver them through the small flat, taking small gentle steps to make sure they didn’t accidentally bump into anything, as Paul muttered directions at him into his mouth, refusing to break the kiss. Instead of following to Paul’s bedroom, however, Paul felt John guiding him the other way. 

“John! John, left!” he tried, hitting John’s shoulder to warn him he was going the wrong way, but John ignored him and instead pushed Paul down on top of the ugly, plastic-y orange couch, making Paul land with another surprised yelp. Before Paul could open his mouth to complain, John had crawled his way over him, legs on either side of Paul’s body and was kissing him again, deeply, slowly, and Paul felt his objections flow away as he felt John’s crotch press against his own. 

“John… George…” 

“Don’t care… need you now.”

“You that desperate for me, then?” Paul hummed, chuckling as John’s lips moved from his lips to his jaw to his throat, sucking a mark there that Paul knew he would feel for days. John growled against his skin at the question, rolling his hips down into Paul’s. 

“Always, Macca. Bad enough not being able to touch you, to kiss you, to feel you whenever I want. God, I’ve needed this. Needed you,” he said as he continued to rut against Paul, rubbing his hardening crotch against Paul’s at an increasingly desperate pace. _ “Fuck…” _

Paul let out a groan in response, his own hips inching up to meet John’s movements, and let his head fall back into the couch, his hands coming up to stroke through John’s hair. He let himself melt against John, moaning at his movements, his hands pulling at the man’s clothes, while John’s lips slid across his skin. 

“God, Paul… I— I need… it’s been so long. I need—” John murmured against his jaw, licking at the unshaven stubbled skin, and Paul moaned at the desperation in his voice, his lips curling up into a smirk. 

“Show me. Please, John. Show me how much you need me.” 

“Hmph, and you call me a bastard,” John huffed, rolling his hips down into Paul’s crotch. Paul chuckled. 

“You know me.  _ Show me. _ Like… like you said you would.” 

John’s movements halted for a moment, before they picked up again, and Paul knew he had understood. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked down at John as the latter finally pulled back, sliding a trembling hand between their bodies to undo the button and zipper of his own trousers. Paul watched breathlessly as John worked his jeans open and slipped a hand beneath the waistband of his trousers, hissing at the coldness of his own fingers as he took out his cock, thick and hard as it stood proud. It took all of Paul’s willpower not to forget about their little game and take care of John’s erection for him. 

“Show me,” Paul repeated as John looked up at him. He let out a groan as John rearranged himself so that he was straddling Paul’s leg, his naked erection pressing against the rough material of Paul’s jeans, already leaving a smear of precum behind. With a shaky groan, John began to move, slowly rubbing his cock up and down Paul’s leg and moaning at the friction that must’ve bordered on uncomfortable. 

“God, Paul…” John moaned and Paul watched as John rutted against him, slowly picking up speed. The sight, combined with the sounds that spilled from John’s lips, was almost enough to make him come, but he refrained. Instead, he took John’s head in his hands, raising it up to meet his eyes, and kissed him. 

They had talked about this a few weeks earlier, in a lust-filled haze as they had sexted over the phone and John had mentioned how badly he needed him. So badly he would just be grateful to rut against his body if it meant he could have him, and touch him, and kiss him. The image John’s words had called to mind had been so strong, it had followed Paul around for days, the idea of John being so needy and desperate turning him on at the most inconvenient times. And now Paul was seeing that exact image right in front of him. 

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back into the couch, enjoying the sight of John rutting against him, chasing an orgasm Paul knew could not be far away. He had been wanting this, dreaming about this and fantasising about this for at least three weeks and now he finally had it. 

He bathed in the attention, in the neediness and desire that burned in each of John’s touches and kisses, muttering ‘yes’ and ‘please’ to encourage John to continue. His own erection strained the material of his jeans as John sped up his movements, rutting against him with more and more fervour, whining at the odd mixture of pleasure, discomfort and frustration. 

Seeing John like that, finally near him after so many months, seeing the love and desire in every move and whine that left his lips, Paul could only stare. 

“I love you,” he muttered, reaching down to gently stroke through John’s hair, and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly this time, the kiss chaste and simple. John moaned at the touch, too loving and gentle in comparison to the primal need and pleasure of his movements. 

“Paul…” he moaned, voice deep and breathless and with one last kiss, Paul lowered his hand between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around John’s erection and stroking it, slowly and first, before tightening his hold. 

“Come for me,” he said, whispering it against John’s lips, and John let out a gasp and came. 

**Author's Note:**

> This challenge is in part a birthday gift to chut, who is an amazing friend. Happy birthday, love, even thought it's still quite a few days away. I'm very happy to have you as my friend and I love you a lot. Thank you for all your love and support over the years and for reading through this fic (and many others) (and hopefully the other entries too). Love you!!


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